Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, because if I did, Korea would reference StarCraft in every other sentence. Y'know, in between prattling on about his "Korean Spirit" and grabbing Japan/China's boobs. Mmhm.
GLHF Let's go~
Francis didn't know how long he had been outside before he heard the tell-tale sounds of his friends' footsteps. The only thing that he could be bothered with was the thought that he needed to, had to reach Anna as soon as possible. To Francis, failure wasn't an option.
He didn't want to regret not having done something later.
The cold and lateness of the hour didn't penetrate the Frenchman's mind until well after his body was being racked by shivers and his eyes were being blurred by unshed tears. He didn't know what time it had been when he left Berwald and Tino's home, and he was unaware as to how far he had traveled, but the long trek from earlier had begun to catch up with him. He couldn't help but hope his friends would catch up with him soon.
It wasn't long until Francis heard the footsteps cease, and instead, was treated to the sounds of Alfred and Gilbert complaining. Suddenly, he found a coat being draped around his shoulders, and a lopsided, but worried, grin in front of him.
"Ai, amigo, don't scare us like that," Antonio said, adjusting the coat so that it fit snugly against Francis' body.
Gilbert chose that moment to end his childish whining, and turn to his blond friend. "Yeah, it was totally unawesome, like you were possessed or something, Franny." He clapped his friend on his back, before tucking his hands into his pockets.
Francis turned to his American friend, waiting for him to comment. What he saw, was Alfred's seldom seen serious face, the blond's blue eyes lost their twinkle and his face pulled into a small frown. The last time Francis saw that look was when Mathew had moved away.
Turning away, the Frenchman brought the coat closer to his body and rubbed his hands together. He couldn't look at Alfred, he couldn't look at his friends' concerned expressions. If he did, he knew his conviction to help Anna would waver.
"Francis," Alfred said softly, "Come back to Tino's house. There's nothing we can do this late at night, not with all of us freezing to death."
If he dared to look around, the Parisian knew he'd see all of his friends staring at him, pleading for him to give in. That's why he chose to stare at his hands, looking over the blisters and callouses that the years of sword training had inflicted. Almost subconsciously, his hands flew to the hilt of his sword, a present from his late father. His father had given him that sword when he had just been a squire, he gave it to Francis in the hopes that his son would follow his dream.
His dream of protecting those who couldn't protect themselves.
"I'm not asking you to follow me," Francis began lowly, "In fact, I think it would be better if you went back. But I'm not, I have to keep going. Je dois continuer."
With that, Francis resumed his journey. He wasn't sure he was going the right way, hell, because of the darkness, he wasn't even sure where he was, but that wouldn't stop him. At this point, he was sure that nothing probably would.
That was, until the Frenchman felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, Francis unsheathed his sword only to see Gilbert. The albino looked oddly indifferent, usually Gilbert wore his emotions on his face, open for the world to see. It was one of the things that Francis liked most about his Prussian friend, but seeing this mask was just... disorienting.
The albino removed his hand from his friend's shoulder, and hastily thrust it into his pocket. "Don't be such a dumbass, Franny. I'm pretty sure it's gotten to the point where you can just assume we got your back; that's just what awesome friends do."
"And we're the awesomest." Alfred chirped in.
Looking at the boy, it was clear that his face was gaining back some of it's childish zeal. Distress was still hiding behind the American's eyes, but it wasn't as prevalent as before, and that, more than anything, eased Francis' mind.
"So, which way are we going?" Antonio asked, his goofy smile almost illuminating a path.
Francis looked at his friends, taking in their determined, albeit stupid, expressions. They were all so earnest, that it was almost nauseating, but the Parisian knew he wouldn't want it any other way. They were all his idiots. Stepping up, Francis took point in front of his friends, leading them to what he hoped was the place where the fair maiden Anna was hidden.
"Well isn't this touching, да?"
There were some people that, when they were born, everyone knew they were truly evil. That voice belonged to one such person.
Instantly, the quartet turned towards the voice, squinting to see who was there. Francis shuddered and blinked, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of pale blonde hair, paler that his or Alfred's could ever be. This wasn't good, this wasn't good at all.
"IVAN!" Alfred snarled, his lips curling. It was amazing the way the American could transform at the drop of a hat.
"It's nice to see you again, comrade," Ivan said, a devilish smile playing across his face. "It's been so long since we last played together. How's you leg healing?"
Bell-like laughter followed the Russian's statement, letting the group know that, per usual, Ivan wasn't alone. Slowly, a feminine form edged away from the ever encroaching darkness and into the dim moonlight. Pale blonde hair, tied up in a cute black bow and an icy expression greeted the group, piercing eyes scanning them over.
"They don't look like much, Brother," The woman said, staring at Ivan intensely.
"That's because they aren't, Natalya."
Francis watched anxiously, as Alfred tensed in anger. Beside him, Gilbert's body was turned towards the two Soviets, his hands whiter than before. Even Antonio had dropped his goofy persona, and was instead scanning the area, looking to see any other hidden ambushers. "Watch your side, Franny. There's two more hidden in the forest."
"Let 'em come," Gilbert whispered, his eyes wide and gleaming. "We're awesome enough to be beat the ever living shit out of them."
"Да?" Ivan asked, tilting his head as innocently as he could. After taking in Gilbert's form, which by this point was almost shaking in anticipation and fury, the Russian nodded towards the woman - Natalya.
At the movement, the blonde twitched and snapped her fingers. Almost immediately, a brunet emerged nervously from the forest, dragging a disgruntled blonde, one who had a much more normal colour, with him. One look at the Soviet woman had the brunet reach for his sword.
The blonde however, was just checking the dirt underneath his nails. That was, until he got a look at the group that Ivan had planned to ambush.
"Like, ohmygod, why didn't anyone tell me were going after these losers?" The blonde rambled, looking at Ivan. "Seriously? I would've so totally stopped being so pissy if I knew you wanted to mess up that French pervert and German barbarian."
Francis rolled his eyes, and placed a hand on Gilbert's back, willing his friend to calm down. "He's Prussian, not German."
"Like, no diff."
"Okay, I've had enough of this scheiße ," Gilbert yelled, breaking away from Francis and charging purposely after the blonde. The Prussian bad-ass moved swiftly, falling back on his years of sword training, and drew his sword from it's scabbard moments before reaching the effeminate blonde. It was clear that Gilbert was after blood.
The other man narrowly missed the first stab, eeping in distress and dodging the second swipe. Quickly, the blonde moved behind the his brunet friend. "Liet, like, do something!"
"What do you want me to do Feliks?" The brunet - Liet - asked wearily.
"Like, defend my honor or something!"
The brunet parried Gilbert's next attack, and pushed the albino away. A quick glance towards Ivan and Natalya, who were making their way over to the group, quickened his resolve, and he started to fight back against the albino.
The three remaining (as Alfred would call them) heroes shifted into a battle ready stance. Francis, as the unofficial team leader, nodded for Antonio to move towards their albino friend. Antonio and Gilbert were two of the best fighters in all of England, it would only be fair for them to be paired together.
Looking at the approaching Soviet figures, Francis glanced at his American companion. Alfred was practically his little brother, and despite the fact that the rambunctious blonde was an able swordsman, the Parisian still didn't want to put him in harms way.
But, it seemed like Alfred had a different idea. "I've got Braginski, you take his sister."
"Alfred-"
"Trust me on this one, Francis. I'll be fine, I'm a hero, and we never get hurt. Why don't you just worry about yourself? Don't want everybody thinking that a little girl can kick you ass, right?" Alfred joked, winking at his friend before rushing off towards the incoming Russian threat.
Francis shook his head fondly, before leaping towards the ground as a throwing knife came rushing towards him. Yeah, he wouldn't care so much if people learned that a little girl with freaking sharp projectiles beat him. Christ, she was even related to the crazy Braginski. No one could blame him.
Rolling over, Francis sprang to his feet as a new round of knives were thrown his way. Soon enough, the silhouette of the Soviet female was easy to make out. Raising his sword, Francis easily deflected the next item thrown his way, and ran towards Natalya so that the two of them were now face to face.
"Mon amour, we shouldn't fight. I'd hate to mar such a lovely face," Francis said, dodging what seemed like an endless supply of daggers.
Natalya glared at him, and the utter force behind was almost enough to make Francis break his concentration. The moment of weakness was enough for the woman though, and almost immediately, the Frenchman was getting a face full of iron. Luckily, he dodged in time so just the blade grazed against his cheek.
Backing up, Francis almost missed the smirk that played briefly across the other blonde's lips. "Didn't you ever hear that woman are better suited for battle, перакрут?"
Then, Natalya lunged towards him, thrusting and deflecting with as much grace as any professional that Francis had ever met. The whole thing only served to make the exotic women so much sexier in Francis' opinion. And Francis was the expert opinion on matters such as that.
The minutes however, began to wear on the female blonde's stamina and, eventually, she started making small mistakes, like twisting her dagger at an off angle, or not always readying for an attack. Natalya still attacked ferociously, but it didn't matter, it was enough for the Frenchman to take advantage of.
Sliding down, Francis kicked out Natalya's legs and wrestled her to the ground, knocking the dagger out of her hand. The blonde woman kicked and clawed, but the Frenchman used his weight to his advantage, and pinned her, placing his sword right near her jugular. Instantly, the Soviet stilled and glared at the Parisian.
"It seems, ma douce, that you're sorely-" Francis' gloat was cut short as two pain-filled yells broke through the quiet of the night. Turning around, both Natalya and Francis let out shocked gasps.
"Ivan!"
"Alfred!"
"Liet, now there's, like, two of them!" The feminine blonde shouted, drawing his sword and standing back to back with his friend - Liet. Antonio and Gilbert looked at each other, before advancing further. It was almost too easy.
Liet merely rolled his eyes at them though, before shaking his head. "I guess that just means we're going to have to fight back Feliks, gerai?"
Antonio and Gilbert watched as Feliks tightened his grip on his sword and nodded. "Porządku."
Before the two could do anything, two wails pierced the air. Soon after, two panicked yells followed. Antonio and Gilbert didn't waste a moment and moved in tandem towards Alfred, ignoring the men that the were supposedly fighting. Once they were gone, Feliks turned to his friend.
"Well, that was, like, pretty anticlimactic, nyeh Liet?" The blonde's remark was combined with a playful hair ruffle.
Liet shook it off before turning back to his friend, a half smile playing at his lips. "Yeah, but we'd better be heading over there too. Natalya might need our help."
"You go. I, like, can't deal with Miss Frigid."
Liet rolled his eyes, before sprinting over to where the other men were gathering, leaving Feliks alone. Either he was eager to help the little Arlovskaya, or he wanted to see whatever trouble Ivan had gotten into now.
But, Feliks would probably put money on the former.
"You're in for a world of hurt, Ivan," Alfred growled, dodging and swooping around Ivan's imposing figure. It wasn't just his reputation that scared people; the Russian also had his tall and muscular body to help him out.
Plus it didn't hurt that Ivan was also crazy.
The Russian man just tilted his head at the American, smiling widely as he blocked a cross-strike. "I hope I can destroy you, comrade. It's always so much fun to destroy precious lives."
Gritting his teeth, Alfred lunged at the Soviet again, his sword swinging with even more intensity than before. Perhaps it was the will to live. Or, perhaps it was the complete and utter loathing that was running through Alfred's veins.
Most people didn't know, but Ivan and Alfred had a history. A long time ago, the two of them were neighbors growing up, only, even then they weren't on the nicest terms. The Russian had terrorized his little brother, Mathew, every single day; threatening, verbally abusing, and even breaking his arm once.
And every time, Alfred would come to his little bro's rescue, believing that Mattie needed a hero more than anything else in the world. Ivan hated him, hated that there was someone who would stand up to him, and soon, both boys were seen almost constantly covered in bruises, dirt, and caked-on blood. The arrangement continued until Francis and his family adopted both Mattie and him, taking them far, far away from that stupid, Russian asshole.
But, even to this day, Alfred still held a grudge. To this day, he still saw Ivan as an unfeeling and horrible bastard who deserved to be killed.
Ivan narrowed his eyes, before blocking another one of Alfred's stabs. The stubborn American had already drawn blood, a slice on his arm proved that, but he had matched as well, with a thrust on Alfred's left thigh that was now oozing. The sight was almost enough to make Ivan grin, he loved marking up the American, he was the only one who was able to really fight back. The only one besides...
The Soviet's thoughts were cut short as Alfred's blade slashed through his chest, making his blood spray on the scarf his older sister had knit him. That in itself was enough to make the Russian see red.
Alfred cried out as Ivan sent a vengeful blow through across his arm, opening up one of the largest gashes that Alfred had ever seen. The blood started to gush out, and in rage, Alfred tackled Ivan to the ground, already feeling woozy from the blood loss.
Before he blacked out, he heard his friend call out his name, but then...
Nothing.
The former enemies met at the battered bodies. It was almost like the battle hadn't happened, each side rushing to their fallen friend, or in some cases, brother. Natalya rushed past all of them, and turned her brother over with such force, Francis wondered fleetingly why she hadn't used it earlier when fighting him.
"Brother," She whispered creepily, smoothing out the Russian's hair. "Brother you have to wake up, you promised me. You promised me that you'd marry me. You can't die, you need to marry me, marry me, marry me, marry me..."
Gilbert and Antonio edged away from the woman, and quickly started ripping their clothing, trying to find anything to clog the bleeding wound on Al's arm. Offering it to Francis, the three friends waited with baited breath to see if Alfred would wake up. While they waited, the brunet from earlier showed up behind Natalya, bringing her attention back to her brother's wound.
"Toris!" She yelled sharply, her tone icy and irritated, not an ounce of worry present. "Wrap your jacket around my brother and grab him. We need to leave now, Eduard will have to bandage him up later."
Obediently, the man - Toris - grabbed Ivan and hoisted him over his shoulders, showing the strength that was hidden behind his sheepish appearance. Without a word, he nodded to them, concern briefly flitting across his face, and took off into the woods. Natalya glared at them before turning around as well.
Leaping into the trees, her voice carried over the wind. "This isn't over. We still have unfinished business you, and we'll be back to finish it."
Both the Spaniard and Prussian looked on unimpressed, but the worry for their American friend took precedent. Turning to Francis almost instinctively, Antonio winced when he saw the look of sheer pain in Francis' eyes. Their friend hadn't look like that in... Antonio couldn't think of a time when the Frenchman looked that distressed.
"Franny, we need to get him out now," Gilbert said finally, his voice oddly soft. "We need to get him back to Tino's, or he'll bleed out. C'mon, do you remember how we got here, or which way we came or-"
"Oi!" The three turned as the heard the familiar mumble fill the air. Berwald's shadow crept in between Alfred and Francis, and the tall man was shifting from foot to foot uneasily. Eventually, he squatted and held out his arms.
Getting the picture, Francis and Antonio hurriedly, but gently, scooped Alfred into Berwald's waiting arms, careful to make sure that his wound wasn't aggravated more. It was clear that those two were the most worried, especially since there wasn't anyone they really knew that practiced medicine and could fix Alfred up. Either they voiced their concerns aloud, or Berwald just understood, because he placed a hand on Francis' shoulder.
"D'n't w'rry, I was in t'e a'my. I c'n dr'ss h's w'und," Berwald whispered, readjusting Alfred's head. "F'll'w me."
Francis and Antonio followed without another word, carefully memorizing the way back to Berwald's house and thanking their lucky stars that Berwald showed up. The two were so preoccupied, that they didn't notice when Gilbert didn't follow, and instead choose to stay behind, a hand still on his sword.
"You can come out now." Gilbert said, plainly.
Slowly, a figure, a familiar one, came out, their hands raised in submission. "Like, you're really good. How'd you know I was there?"
"Besides the fact that you smell like mediocrity, and it's totally unawesome?"
Feliks rolled his eyes and groaned, before his resolve solidified, and he looked Gilbert in the eyes, a steely look on his face. "Look, I know you don't, like, trust me, but I think you should, like, know that Ivan really has it out for you, all of you. But, like, especially Jones. He's not going to give up, like, that easily, and you need to watch you back at, like, all times. This won't slow him down."
Gilbert sighed, grasping his sword even tighter before letting it go. He'd been afraid that this might happen. "Why are you helping us? Not that it's not awesome or anything, but I just tried to kill you. And we've never gotten along before. I'm pretty sure that puts a damper on the friendly helping bullshit."
"I might hate you," Feliks began, smiling blithely. The effeminate blonde moved back into the forest before speaking again. "But I hate Ivan even more. I hope your friend, like, makes a full recovery, Gil."
"...Thanks Fel."
Anna woke up, feeling more at ease than she had since being abducted by that German swine. She made a new friend that she could actually stand for more than five minutes, and had a good night drinking. At this point, hangovers no longer screwed her over, since they were so common it didn't make sense to get hung up on them.
So, as Anna woke up, she was more or less surprised by the feeling of a body surrounding her. Bolting up, she saw the outline of a young woman, around her age, with long brown hair. From behind, Anna heard the faeries laughing at her, and when she turned towards them, she noted the pair of glasses on the side table.
Turning towards the new...screw it, the intruder, Anna cocked an eyebrow. "And just who the bloody hell are you?"
The brunette stirred, and from where Anna sat, she could see the drowsiness in her eyes. Soon, the woman put her glasses on, and slowly took in her surroundings. Faintly, Anna wondered if that's what she looked like when she first arrived.
After a little bit of time, Anna cleared her throat, drawing the woman's attention back to her. "As I said, just who are you?"
"I could ask you the same question," The brunette said, her voice tight and prim, "But I think the better question is where is this? And who was the idiot that abducted me"
Anna chuckled a little bit, before extending her hand. Whoever this woman was, Anna was sure they were going to get along fine.
A/N: Okay, so I want to say that I was working on this chapter for a long time, but I'd be lying. Yeah for Spring Break :DDD Anyone else think that Feliks and Gilbert would have the best, yet completely dysfunctional relationship? And does everyone know who the new genderbent character is? Is it weird to put that at the end of a somewhat serious chapter? Whatever :DDDDD
Oh, for those of you that wanted a full rundown of what pairings I was planning, here we go:
FrancexFem!England, Spamano, PrussiaxFem!Austria, USUK, GerIta, SuFin, Onesided HungaryxFem!Austria, RoChu (haven't decided if I'm gonna gendbend China or not...), LietPol, Onesided RusBel, CanUkraine, Onesided LietBel, SKoreaJap, USBel
Hope these don't alienate too many people...
Translations:
gerai = okay
Porządku = Alright
перакрут = Pervert
ma douce = my sweet
Je dois continuer = I need to continue
да = yes
I hope you enjoyed reading, and if you didn't, or you're angry about how long it took me to update, please leave a review.